


The Roof is on Fire

by baku_midnight



Series: Daryl Dixon Queerbaiting Revenge Party [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, M/M, Object Insertion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest, because it's Dixoncest and that's par for the course, may be triggering for abusive relationships, slight D/s, slight dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baku_midnight/pseuds/baku_midnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl and Merle haven't gotten a good night's rest in weeks, they're on the run from walkers constantly, and getting loopy from dehydration. Clearly this is not the best place to be getting off, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Roof is on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> The image of the garage I had in mind was one like the ones you encounter travelling in Fallout 3 or New Vegas. Gibson’s Scrapyard came to mind: old, rusty, but secure and strangely comfortable, at least if you’ve spent months travelling the wastes.

After fourteen days on the road with just each other, Daryl wasn’t sure how much more he could take. It turned out that Merle off drugs was even worse than he was _on_ drugs – his older brother was more impatient, impulsive, and persistent than ever, and his PTSD had him screaming up in the middle of the night loud enough to bring all the walkers in the goddamned city to the two of them. They hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest for a week.

 

One of the two of them, Daryl doesn’t even remember but he can be pretty sure it was Merle – had the idea to go back into the city after the fire-bombings wiped all the walkers from the street, with the hopes of scavenging up supplies before hitting the road. Only, as the two of them got further and further from where they’d stored Merle’s bike and Daryl’s truck, it was becoming more and more obvious that they were getting more and more lost.

 

“Don’t get your panties in a knot,” would be Merle’s consistent response whenever Daryl even _hinted_ at expressing concern over the fact that they might be a _bit_  lost, “I’ve got it. Just follow me, little brother.”

 

Daryl wanted to believe in his big brother, so he did. He’d seen the danger his brother had suffered and made it through over the years, and saw what the military made of him: he was a better tracker, better fighter, and better shot than Daryl was, so there was no way he would get them lost. It was just the high volume of walkers, clogging up the city streets like a thick, musty fog that was pushing them further and further away from their vehicles.

 

They slept for hours at a time in abandoned buildings with burned-out windows and scorch-marks that rose up two stories on the bleached cement. They barricaded every door and window and slept in shifts, the other sibling taking watch – an arrangement that wasn’t unlike the way they’d spent their nights at home: after all, there was no telling when dad would get in one of his moods and decide the best and easiest targets to take out his aggression on were his helplessly sleeping sons. They would take a whole day moving a single block, and eat and drink what they found, or some days, eat nothing at all.

 

Finally, the walkers started to pile up on them in a volume not even the Dixon brothers could handle, and they found themselves running without scavenging at all. Wild with dehydration in the middle of summer, they travelled like desert mercenaries, Mongols scattered in the desert, yelling to each other across the pulsing waves of the sandstorm, and waving their curved swords. They doubled-back and travelled in circles. They barricaded themselves on rooftops and drank the water from the cooling towers on the roof. They kept wandering aimlessly until Merle shouted a very loud “ah-hah!” and started racing them straight down one street.

 

“Come on, little brother!” Merle called from his position nearly 100 feet ahead, and suddenly it was just like when they were children and the 17-year-old Merle had expected his 7-year-old younger brother to be able to keep pace with him. Daryl panted as he followed, knees weak with exhaustion and sore from heel to hip, moaning with every brutal step on the blazing pavement.

 

“You—” Daryl gasped out, desperately trying to carry his voice forward to where his brother ran ahead, “you figure out the way?”

 

“Sure did!” Merle replied, “now getcho pansy-ass up here, ain’t got all day!”

 

Daryl frowned but didn’t slow his pace, just then noticing the horrendous amount of walkers coming up on their 3 o’clock. And their 9. They seemed to be streaming in from both directions, gathered up from herds walking the streets that intersected the one Merle and Daryl were currently racing down at full speed.

 

“Merle! Look out!” Daryl said as loudly as he could, voice breaking on the wind, but Merle only spared the approaching crowd a cursory glance and kept running.

 

“I got it, just keep going!” Merle threw over his shoulder, and Daryl sped up his pace, panting so hard he thought his lungs would burn up just then, in the middle of the street. The herds started to get closer, and Daryl thought with a horrified lurch that Merle didn’t see them, or only saw one of them, or—

 

“Merle!” Daryl shouted at the top of his lungs, and his brother let out a groan of effort as he broke into a sprint, heading towards an abandoned garage to the left of the street. The building was small and unobtrusive, mostly unharmed, and thankfully – Daryl gasped a sigh of relief – familiar.

 

Merle rounded the corner and stomped up the outside stairs to the side entrance, ripping his gun out of his belt where it sat at his side. Daryl was still at least half a click behind and racing with all of his might against the encroaching hordes. Merle worked at the lock on the door, slamming the heel of his shotgun against the knob to loosen the lock, working frantically to get it open. What was worse was that he _knew_ it would open, because he’d only just closed it days ago! Scrabbling and swearing at the lock Merle kept tossing glances over his shoulder at Daryl, who was dashing towards him and trying to stay upright.

 

“Hurry it up now, or this train gonna leave you behind—” Merle trailed off as the make-shift lock broke open beneath his hands and he shouted happily and pushed the creaky door open. “Come on! Move that hustle, boy!”

 

Daryl broke into a full sprint, pounding the pavement, every muscle in his body on fire as he ran to the door. In truth the walker hordes were a ways away yet, and stumbled like drunks coming out of a bar at closing time, but they seemed that much closer the closer Daryl got to the intersection. He tried not to panic, simply following his brother’s lead as he stood in the side-door of the garage and shouted at him to follow.

 

Finally, the stairs were in view and Daryl leapt up them, taking two at a time as he raced up to the door that Merle was holding open, and burst inside. He started circling the room, exhausted, willing his heartrate to go down at least enough that he could see straight, while Merle laughed and whooped in triumph as he worked on re-locking the door. Merle tied the doorknob to the protruding fan controls next to the door with a bungee cable, and with a mighty shove and groan of final effort put the work bench in front of the door to further barricade it.

 

“Ha! Whaddid I say, huh?” Merle laughed boisterously as he paced the room, going immediately to the spare canteens he’d loaded onto his bike days earlier. He unscrewed the top of one and tossed the other to Daryl, who caught it and drank gratefully, sucking down the water like it was the elixir of life. It was warm and tasted slightly of rust, but it was the best thing he’d had flowing through his system in years.

 

Daryl nodded his agreement, letting his crossbow down off of his shoulder and lowering it to the floor. It felt good to be able to relax for just a moment, though he was well aware their hard-earned peace would last only minutes. They had to get out of the city, above all else, and try to make it to the quarry down the road, where they would have shelter and isolation from the monsters creeping the streets.

 

Merle walked up to Daryl and settled just in front of him, reaching forward and flipping Daryl’s hair away from his cheek, chuckling at how disheveled he looked.

 

“Whaddid I tell ya, little brother?” Merle asked proudly, grinning at Daryl’s nod of assent. He waited until Daryl drained his canteen, then tossed the remainder of his own over Daryl’s head.

 

“What was that for?!” Daryl yelled, shaking his head and spluttering as the water trickled down his bangs and into his eyes and mouth. Merle just laughed, a brutally loud noise, loving watching how Daryl squirmed.

 

“To cool you off!” Merle answered, and Daryl just glared and turned away, tossing his empty canteen aside. He barely got anywhere when he felt Merle grab the front of his shirt and yank him back around, and crush a kiss against his mouth.

 

Daryl moaned and pushed back with his palms on Merle’s chest, fatigue parting his lips and letting Merle’s tongue inside, where it slashed a swath across his mouth, fiery and acrid.

 

“You wanna do this…here?” Daryl asked when they parted, his hands twisted in Merle’s shirt like Merle’s was in his collar. He looked around the garage: it was cleaner than plenty of the places they’d stayed, and the windows were barred already to prevent theft, but they weren’t exactly in the Alamo Mission, here. Their tenuous safety wouldn’t last long.

 

Merle was persistent, however. His hand crept up to grasp Daryl’s jaw and hold him in tight, leading his other hand down to grip Daryl’s waist, sliding his palm up under his shirt and against the smooth flesh of his belly. “Yeah. Right here.”

 

Sucking a few loud, wet kisses into the sticky flesh of Daryl’s neck, Merle walked his brother across the room and led him to a clear worktable, pushing him gently against the hard surface. The table was heavy steel, cold to the touch even in the shade of the garage, and creaked as Merle pressed Daryl against the edge with his hard thighs. Daryl sighed and let his head drop back, trying to relax under Merle’s capable hands, though anxiety still flooded his veins – they hadn’t been able to be together like this for weeks now, and they were both getting antsy from the lack of contact. Merle especially used intimacy like it was another drug, a complex medicine filled with uppers and downers and opiates and everything the doctor ordered to soothe his aching heart. Going without was clearly weighing on him, as he held Daryl against the table and continued to smother his neck in sloppy kisses.

 

Merle’s stubble scratched at Daryl’s neck and he moaned softly, a just-barely sound that made Merle charge forward with a grunt. He bit down on the flesh of Daryl’s collarbone, delighting in the way his body stiffened beneath his grasp.

 

“Merle…” Daryl sighed out, starting to lose himself in the touches, Merle’s callous palms gliding up and down his belly, the hot mouth on his neck and chest, and the feel of Merle’s heart beating hard and steady against his own chest. Suddenly, he felt himself falling backwards as Merle shoved him back across the desk, the feet screeching across the cement floor before going still with Daryl lying on his back atop it, with his legs hanging over the end.

 

“Merle!” Daryl repeated in surprise, as his brother yanked his hands up over his head and up by his ears. Daryl heard the _shink_ of a belt being pulled loose from its loops and then Merle slapped his belt around Daryl’s wrists and the far leg of the table, tying him to the leg and pulling taut.

 

“What the Hell?!” Daryl shouted in protest and horror, fighting to get free, clenching his fists, tensing his arms, anything to get him loose. Merle just grinned down at his restrained form, planting his hands on the table and leaning over, and pressing a deep kiss into his throat.

 

Daryl fought the kiss and moved to kick Merle in the stomach instead, but the larger man swung free and instead pressed Daryl’s knees down with his body.

 

“Come on now, you ain’t never complained about bein’ tied up before,” Merle chuckled, sliding his hands up Daryl’s sides, under his sensitive armpits and up his raised arms, which were going white Daryl was clenching them so hard.

 

Daryl wanted to argue that he _had_ complained _plenty_ of times, but he was getting increasingly worried for his brother’s sanity. There were no less than two hordes just a few miles away outside ready to rip them to shreds, and they had only these three concrete walls and a flimsy metal garage door to protect them – what was Merle thinking?! They were _not_ out of danger, and if Daryl was stuck tied up here, he might as well be live bait for the monsters congregating around them. He tried to tell his brother as such, but it came out as a choked whine as Merle grabbed his crotch and began to massage his cock with hard, penetrating strokes of his palm.

 

“That’s what makes it so exciting, doncha think?” Merle uttered softly in Daryl’s ear, relishing in the shudder that ran all the way down to his cock. It was already starting to lengthen in his hand, made sensitive by days without any attention and spurred on, despite the man himself, by adrenaline. Daryl did trust Merle, but this was pushing even him to his limits.

 

Daryl loosened his fists, wriggling his fingers to let the blood come back to his hands, trying to relax and breathe out while Merle shucked him quickly out of his pants, pulling his torn jeans down off of one leg and letting the other one hang there off of his ankle. Daryl’s briefs followed, and Daryl fell back with a hiss of surprise as his bare flesh met the cool table.

 

Merle smiled down at his brother, who was pointedly looking away, his eyes focused on the makeshift barricade on the side door. They were safe, Merle knew it, but it didn’t hurt to pretend. Pretend that they were seconds away from being attacked, and every moment of their bodies together counted… It was kinda like how it was somehow way more fun to drink when you’re not allowed to, like when cops are around, you’re out in the daylight, or you’re underage. Merle supposed there was something to the comparison, but his mind was so sharply focused on the sight before him he could give a shit about that.

 

“At least try an’ look a little sexy for me,” Merle teased, and Daryl glowered down at him through his knees. His legs hung over the edge of the table, too tall to fit, stretched all the way out from one corner to the other. “Arch your back a little, come on.”

 

Daryl frowned and didn’t respond, so Merle grabbed his cock and gave it a firm pull, yanking the skin up from the base and pulling the foreskin over the tip. Daryl squirmed and howled in shock, his back lifting from the tabletop in a pleasing arc that raised his hips and chest to the sky.

 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Merle smiled, setting a gentler pace, stroking Daryl’s cock to full hardness while keeping an eye on his face. Daryl’s eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth sunk firmly into his bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth and sucking desperately, trying to keep from making any noise. And well, that just wouldn’t do, Merle thought, as he let go abruptly, and started to back away.

 

“No!” Daryl called out instantly as Merle started to walk away, towards where their vehicles were. Panic rose up in his chest and his heart began racing at the thought of being left behind.

 

“Relax, I’m right here,” Merle said softly, and so sincerely Daryl felt a lump form in his throat. The elder brother smiled to himself as he turned towards his bike, squatting down to work open the pouch on the back. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

 

Retrieving lube, Merle returned to Daryl to see him lying panting breathlessly, his chest rising with every desperate inhale. His blue eyes were hot like gas fire as he stared imploringly at Merle.

 

“Lookit you,” Merle mumbled, running a finger down Daryl’s stomach and between his legs, up his shaft to the tip of his cock, “tremblin’ like a scared foal.”

 

The shiver that followed his finger was enough evidence of Daryl’s arousal and desperation, even without the cock standing in his lap. Merle coated one hand with the lube and grasped Daryl’s cock, resuming his attentions with care and ease. Merle kept working his hand up and down Daryl’s shaft, chuckling at every gasp and moan that came from his brother’s mouth. He would jerk his hand in rushed strokes, bringing Daryl just that close to peaking, then slow down immediately, bringing Daryl close to coming over and over again, only to stop and release his grasp every time. Days without attention were driving both of them mad, Merle knew, his head pounding with rushing blood, his vision foggy at the edges.

 

“Mm, come on!” Daryl whined finally, unable to take the torment any longer, lifting his head and glaring down at Merle. Merle just shrugged as though he wasn’t at all culpable, as always.

 

“Alright, alright,” Merle teased, pushing Daryl further by tightening his grip. His hand moved faster, faster until Daryl felt his toes curling and his hips rising up to the sky, _so close_ , and then Merle simply let go.

 

“You sonofa...” Daryl gasped out as he let out the breath he was holding. It felt like Merle was edging him for hours, but it had only been minutes, which reminded Daryl suddenly of the walker horde outside…

 

“Merle,” Daryl implored, as his big brother’s big hands trailed down beneath his balls, rubbing his thumb against the crease on the underside of his sack and making Daryl squirm. A finger, coated in lube, pressed down against his hole and Daryl clenched up automatically, pulling his legs together at the knees and pulling them towards his chest, only to have Merle pry them back apart.

 

“Hold on, now,” Merle muttered as he walked forward so his hips were flush with the table’s edge, parting Daryl’s legs and putting one on each side of his stomach, “ain’t done yet.”

 

Daryl shook his head in frustration, planting his feet on the edge of the table and letting Merle creep closer and closer to his hole, running a palm down the sensitive back of his thigh while the other one gently parted his crack and slid inside.

 

Then, they heard it. A loud crash against the door shook the two of them to the core and they both turned to the barricaded door, which rattled frantically under the desperate thrashing of a walker. The two brothers looked back at each other, wide-eyed, caught for what to do.

 

This was it, their break time was over, Daryl realized with a shudder, looking at his brother imploringly. They needed to get out. It wasn’t safe anymore. But to Daryl’s horror, Merle just started to smile, a sadistic grin the likes of which Daryl had never seen on his brother’s severe face. Then, rather than pulling away to let Daryl get out from under him, he shoved a finger up inside him instead.

 

Daryl groaned and threw his head back in protest, tensing immediately as the finger breached him, sliding all the way in to the webbing. His body clenched around the intrusion and for a moment he felt nothing but pain, until the finger curled up and flicked against the little nub inside him that made him see stars.

 

“Too tight, gotta loosen up now,” Merle instructed and Daryl bit his lip so hard it bled. It was impossible – _this_ was impossible – another crash against the door and the merciless growl that followed made Daryl’s body tighten all over, but if he didn’t relax his muscles the pain was too much. He breathed out hard and tried to will his body to calm down and accept the intrusion, because obviously it wasn’t going to stop.

 

“ _That’s_ it,” Merle drawled, mumbling to himself and Daryl in nonsensical tones, corkscrewing his finger in deeper and curving it so that the tip reached right up against Daryl’s prostate. The resulting whine of pleasure further spurred Merle on, whose face was practically lit up with excitement, pawing at his own erection through his jeans while he finger-fucked Daryl out of his mind.

 

Daryl let out a few deep breaths, relaxing as the finger pried him open, cautiously accepting a second. His knees fell open to the side, trying to ignore the pounding against the garage door when another smack, this one against a window, jolted him up in horror.

 

Daryl gasped as he tried to sit up, yanking the belt around his wrists and arching his chest into the air. Merle just grinned at his brother’s restrained posture, the way it forced his back into a pleasing arch, his flat stomach curving into the air, and continued to work his second finger in.

 

“N… _nn_ ,” Daryl whimpered out, the pleasure impossible to deny as Merle’s deft fingers drove against his prostate, sending waves of pleasure up his spine with every press. Another smack rattled the windows and Daryl’s body jolted automatically with fear, joining the chorus of hungry beasts awaiting them just outside. The fear molded with the pleasure and sent Daryl’s heartbeat racing, pounding in his ears along with the pounding against the door.

 

Suddenly, Merle pulled away again and Daryl cried out in mindless fear of being left alone, restrained, surrounded by monsters who wanted to eat his flesh. It seemed like every second that passed the banging got louder, joined by more and more hands and bodies slamming themselves into every surface, trying to get inside. Merle bent low to the ground and raised an object with a triumphant huff, returning to his position standing between Daryl’s legs, and promptly lifted one over each shoulder.

 

Daryl’s breath came in pants, shallow, unable to combat the dizzy fear that swirled in his head. His stomach rose and fell with each breath, arms forced up over his head and his ankles on his brother’s broad shoulders. He couldn’t lift his head to look down and see what Merle was playing with between his hands, it making a slick sliding sound as he coated it with lube. He didn’t have to guess what was coming next but still he flinched as Merle pressed the top of an empty beer bottle against his asshole.

 

“How I’d love to cram my cock up in there right now, but I need y’all to be able to _walk_ after this,” Merle said with a smirk, running his tongue across the bottom of his top teeth, “so _this_ ’ll have to do for now.”

 

“ _Aa—ahh,_ ” Daryl cried as the lip of the bottle breeched him, sinking inside just a bare inch as his voice fell apart into a series of shattered whimpers. Merle twisted the glass with his hand and worked it in deeper, letting the neck of the bottle sink in another two inches before withdrawing it, sliding it out and back in over and over, fucking Daryl gently with the bottle.

 

It wasn’t enough, Daryl’s body was aching for release, and the _stretch_ …it was too much, he desperately wanted to reach down and touch himself, but his hands were stuck fast no matter how hard he pulled. He groaned as he tried to escape his bonds but Merle didn’t let up, fucking him faster and faster with the bottle.

 

Every slam, bang and crash against the side door and the windows sent a thrill up Merle’s spine, made his hands steadier, made him wilder. They were right out there. At any second the windows could smash and they would need to run out of there. The thrill was incredible, Merle laughed with sadistic excitement as he pounded the slick bottle in deeper.

 

“Please, oh please,” Daryl whined, his throat inclined in a glorious arch Merle wanted to sink his teeth into, “please… _big brother_ …”

 

Merle leaned over, pushing Daryl’s legs back as he bent across his body. He took each of Daryl’s ankles and planted his heels on his own shoulders, increasing the bend of his legs and making the tremble with the strain, jolting with every sharp jab inside.

 

“You like that? Like bein’ fucked out by your big brother?” Merle whispered, bending low so he was nearly face-to-face with Daryl, bringing Daryl’s knees nearly to his chest.

 

“Y-yeah,” Daryl nodded, eyes dark with lust but still alight with fear. His heart pounded in his ears, obscuring the ominous banging, the growls just outside.

 

“That get you off? Knowing those creeps are just outside, waiting to _rip you apart?_ ” Punctuating his words Merle shoved the bottle in deeper, the wide base of the neck breeching Daryl’s hole and making his toes curl. He shook his head frantically but the reaction of his body gave him away. His erection curved up, splurting precum onto his bare belly and Merle chuckled as he grasped it with his other hand, still sliding the bottle back and forth inside.

 

“Think they still know how to _fuck?_ ” Merle wondered aloud, releasing the bottle and flicking the button of his jeans. He put the base of the bottle against his own hip so he could push it in with the weight of his own body, like he was fucking Daryl with a fake cock. He started to stroke himself and Daryl in time, pulling quicker and harder with each moment.

 

“Think if they got in here, saw you all tied up like this, they’d wanna fuck your ass?” Merle mumbled lowly, bringing his mouth against Daryl’s ear and licking the sweat out of the shell. “Just all of ’em lined up, fighting over your sweet little ass – you saw how many of them were out there. Y’think they’d all wan’a turn?”

 

Daryl closed his eyes but the image just became stronger: himself, tied up and spread out, helpless, with only his big brother’s strong body to shield him. Moments away from being gored and speared and ripped to shreds. He groaned and threw back his head as Merle started to pump his hips, gently but firmly pressing the bottle forward until it ground deep inside Daryl, keeping him spread wide around the thick stem.

 

“Hey, they sure as Hell remember how’ta _eat,_ who’s to say they don’t remember how’ta _fuck?”_ Merle said with a laugh, biting down on the cusp of Daryl’s jaw, sinking his teeth into the heated flesh. Daryl jumped in horror despite himself, imagining the teeth pressing deeper, and ripping his neck apart. Pleasure flooded through him as the grip on his cock grew tight and punishing and he approached his peak, hips jumping frantically to reach Merle’s hand.

 

“Well then, come’n get it, y’all!” Merle shouted, breathless as he pumped himself faster and harder, hips shuddering as he climbed higher and higher, all sense slipping away with every second that he climbed to his peak. He laughed, a rasping, desperate noise as he drew himself up and shouted to the hordes outside, “come on, all y’all! Get it while the gettin’s good!”

 

With a cry Daryl came, splattering come across his brother’s hand, while he continued to pump the two of them together until he came seconds later, splashing across Daryl’s hips with a deep sigh of pleasure. Panting, Daryl immediately pulled his knees together, an automatic reaction to the over-stimulation, nearly knocking his knees against the sides of Merle’s head, had he not known instinctively to get out of the way.

 

There was no time to relax, even though Daryl’s head was spinning so bad he could barely see, an ominous blur encroaching on all sides, followed by a fuzzy sound in his ears as he felt Merle pull away from him and sort his ankles back down to the edge of the table. The bottle came free and Daryl flinched as it slid out, vaguely aware that he was being untied and rolling over to his side, immediately reaching down to his aching hole. He had gone too long without fucking, his backside was aching as he gently fingered his hole, feeling it return to its normal shape. But it wasn’t enough. He felt empty, he wanted cock.

 

The terror that had flooded his system moments ago seemed to dissipate – he didn’t know if it was his mind getting fuzzy after orgasm, or the realization that he had nothing to fear. His brother was there. He would always protect him. Merle’s body loomed at his feet, as he breathed his chest rose, broadening his shoulders and making him look even more impressing, and Daryl desired so much to just reach out for him…

 

But fortunately, while his body was aching for more touch his mind was reminding him to get up, and Merle’s hollering slowly filtered back into his ears. Daryl sat up with a jolt, leaping from the table and reaching for his jeans. He dressed in a panicked rush, running to his truck and slamming it open, getting inside and starting the engine.

 

Only then did he realize that the garage door was still lowered, and Merle’s bike still sitting dormant beside him.

 

“I’ll get the door open and you get out, little brother,” Merle ordered from the pull chain at the side of the door, mindful of the group of walkers still surrounding them on all sides. The monsters banged and dented the side door and had smashed a window or two, and were trying to climb in through the shattered glass.

 

“What about you?!” Daryl called frantically over the growl of the truck’s engine, but Merle didn’t move.

 

“I can get moving faster,” Merle said, “you just go, and keep going no matter what’s out there, y’hear?”

 

Daryl was reluctant but a loud crash and the scrap of the workbench going across the floor jolted him into action. The walkers were breaking the barricade. There was no time. He had to go.

 

“See ya on the other side, Darlin’,” Merle shouted, and wrenched the chain down hard, pulling the garage door up. Sunlight broke across a mass of the horrible undead creatures. Daryl slammed on the accelerator and didn’t look back.


End file.
